Tag Archives: rights

The horrific things happening in the world right now, the U.K., Afghanistan, the GCC, South Sudan, Yemen and more, just wow. My heart is so so heavy. Hearing Philando Castile’s murderer has been acquitted was the final straw. Don’t you ever tell me that institutionalized racism doesn’t exist. Don’t ever tell me that black lives hold the same value as white lives. Don’t you EVER tell the Black Lives Matter supporters that it should be All Lives Matter because we don’t owe you a lesson on slavery (which deadass still exists) and the comparative worth of black lives. Black people will never know peace, ever. I just want to know, when I move to the US will I have to continually explain my worth and justify why I deserve to exist? Will I have to shield myself and make sure I don’t look suspicious (whatever the hell that means) so that I don’t get shot for being black? Tell me, when is it going to end? When are black people going to be able to breathe and live? “All men were created equal” suuuuure. It’s messed up to the very core when blatant homicide isn’t punished. Black people will never be safe anywhere.

I lost all hope in everything. Last year, when I met the British ambassador to the UN, I asked what is being done to help Sudan. He told me lots is being done but they have more pressing issues. I understand there’s a lot on your plate but no particular UN effort has been successful recently in my opinion. You tell me we just don’t matter as much, I bite my tongue and hope that your efforts elsewhere are working. But they’re not.

I’ve been avoiding talking about politics and social justice recently because I feel absolutely helpless and angry. The world we live in is gradually getting worse and no amount of countering we can do will ever be enough. I’m tired, you’re tired, everyone’s tired. I can’t even properly articulate myself anymore because all that comes out is anger and tears. I’m completely over it. But I will embody the angry black woman trope until my dying breath. Solange Knowles simply and eloquently sang, “There’s a lot to be mad about.” No truer words have been spoken. I cannot rest with a mind buzzing like this. I cannot rest with a soul that is THIS heavy. I cannot rest until we all know what peace is. As we’re not able-bodied middle class white cisgender heterosexual men, we’ll never know peace. To everyone who has ever been oppressed by the system or screwed over by a tragedy, my heart and soul are always with you. I’m always behind you. Until then, we need to find a strength to fight everything that’s thrown our way. I love you, always and forever. All I can say for now is rest in power, Philando Castile. You deserved better. Black people deserve better. The world deserves better. #nojusticenopeace

I walked out into the harsh winds, ignoring the incessant biting of the cold winter into my frail bones. I walked down the marble steps, my worn out soul trembling, my faith shaken, my energy withering but my body resilient to any discomfort. I walked straight onto the rough granite pavement embedded with the footprints of distressed civilians, inconsiderate of whether or not I was crossing a pedestrian’s designated path. I walked down the street, dressed in an abaya which served as a constant reminder of the tyranny I was coerced to live in harmony with under false pretenses of the religion I devotedly believed in, avoiding to look into anyone’s angry eyes in fear of the accusing glares deeming me a harlot in spite of my consented full coverage. I walked past the first man, lowering my gaze as I was expected to and felt, I felt his searing gaze scanning my body half-longingly half-distastefully, wrongfully judging the oppressed woman, the silenced voice underneath the humble black garment. I walked towards my destination; bearing the word “underdog” in my mind but having the taboo of a word “woman” emblazoned on my chest and carved into my features, ensuring the indifference my expression conveyed. I walked past the string of grimy stores, ignoring the monotonous words of the citizens while having my mental voice engulfing my thoughts with its anger and struggle to attain my lost rights. I walked on as the thunder rumbled wildly and the sky began to water the earth, inhaling the sweet scent of tobacco mixed molasses which reminded me of the fact men chose to harm their health while women couldn’t due to the social unacceptability of females smoking. I walked, embracing the soon to be transient nature of my suppression, promising myself it wouldn’t be long before I could behave the way I wanted to. I walked, swearing to Allah that they will rue the day they chose to regard women as the weaker sex. I walked and walked, hoping my legs wouldn’t give out and my mind would finally be quiet for once.